


This is War

by MnMJax



Series: Halo Soulmate AU [1]
Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, I don't even know???, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, also the title is uncreative AF and I apologize, but I ship the fuck out of it and this is sort of an establishing prologue chapter, romance if you squint but not much, why i wrote this???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 12:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7439256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MnMJax/pseuds/MnMJax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His words appeared not long after he was born, he wasn’t even a year old. Between then and now, there were more than a few points in Thomas Lasky’s life in which he hated his soulmark. Not for any really good reason, it was just petty irritation because it made no sense. Really, what the hell was he supposed to do with the “the distress beacon”, crossing his inner wrist?</p><p>(AKA I am soulmate AU trash and this is a crack!ship that decided to turn itself into a real ship)</p><p>(It's also worth mentioning that there was supposed to be more real interaction between Chief and Lasky here, not sure where it went.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PolarGrizz47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarGrizz47/gifts).



His words appeared not long after he was born, he wasn’t even a year old.

Between then and now, there were more than a few points in Thomas Lasky’s life in which he _hated_ his soulmark. Not for any really good reason, it was just petty irritation because it _made no sense_. It wasn’t as bad as Cadmon’s, at least – the words _“If you step on the back of my shoe again and it comes off, I’ll do the same to your head”_ stretched from the crease of his elbow to his wrist.

But really, what the hell was he supposed to do with the _“the distress beacon”_ , crossing his inner wrist in small, blocky letters? It was distinct enough, sure, so he wasn’t as unlucky as people who had _Hello_ on their wrist, or something equally unoriginal, but it bothered him. What was the context? What was _happening_ that there was a distress beacon at all?

Did he say his words first? It would make sense, since it looked like his soulmate was answering a question. But what if they weren’t, and it was just someone who didn’t like to talk much?

He had a lot less time to contemplate it once he was shipped off-world to the officers’ academy on Circinius IV. He ran the risk of being mocked – more than he already was for being bisexual – or told to get his head out of the clouds if he zoned out during lessons, and he quickly learned that time after lights out was better spent sleeping off the aches and pains of the day.

Three of his squadmates found their soulmates on the first day of classes: Dimah and Sully were each other’s, and JJ ended up with someone from another squad. Colonel Mehaffey was quick to remind all the cadets that soulmates or not, they were at the academy to _learn_ , and that was to be their main priority.

He was squad leader for a time, until his tactics had Hastati Squad’s combat scores dropping. It wasn’t exactly his fault that he felt like hell warmed over every time he came out of cryo, and he couldn’t issue orders properly if he couldn’t hear himself _think_.

Everything _really_ started going to shit after Cadmon was killed on Andesia. Hastati’s scores dropped ever lower, Thomas wasn’t even allowed to come home for Cadmon’s funeral, Vickers took over as squad leader, and Thomas wasn’t sure why he was supposed to care anymore.

Then he found out he was allergic to something that essentially kept him alive in Cryo – severe enough that he could leave if he wanted to. He was sorely tempted, would have done it if Chyler’s words weren’t ringing in the back of his mind at all hours; _“Look, you want people to change, you want this war to end? Then you're going to need people to follow you.”_

In the end, it didn’t really matter anyways.

* * *

_Colonel Mehaffey, JJ, Dimah, Philip, Sean, how many others? …All dead_. He couldn’t even put a name to what killed them, didn’t know what the _hell_ they were. Some kind of alien, with advanced technology humanity wasn’t even close to matching.

And it just kept getting better from there, because the fucking things could turn _invisible_ on top of every other ridiculous advantage they had. Hastati made it to the armory, for all the good that did when it turns out April can’t access the live ammunition. At least they had a sheet of metal a foot thick between them and whatever the hell that alien was in the dorms.

His hands shook on the keypad, but at least he got the door closed – in the back of his mind, Thomas heard April saying something about sending out a distress beacon. Something about that was significant, he remembered, but he didn’t have time to think about why.

He stammers through the transmission, praying to god and whatever other deities might exist in the universe that it makes it through to someone friendly. “This is Cadet Thomas Lasky. I repeat, mayday! Mayday! There’s been an attack on Corbulo Academy! Excessive casualties. _I repeat_ , excessive casualties.” His voice cracks and shakes, but that’s all he can do.

April can’t access live rounds, but there’s not much they can do besides try to break open the lockers. Again, for all the good it does. A sheet of metal might be a reasonable barrier between them and the monster, but it’s not exactly soundproof. At the first resounding slam against the door, the cadets take cover behind the lockers, and it’s not long after that that the door is knocked over entirely with an echoing crash that makes all the cadets flinch.

They might have made it out on their own, they might not have. Thomas still doesn’t know. Vickers got taken down trying to distract the creature so they could get away – not that it helped. They were cornered, the creature’s glowing sword inches from Thomas’ face. Just as the realization that he was going to die kicked in, the creature let out an unholy wail, strange spine arching back as it collapsed.

 _Revealing an armored behemoth like the one Sully had found in the ONI files_.

“We don’t have much time. Let’s go.”

Thomas’ throat is tight and try, he couldn’t manage to speak even if he wanted to. The cadets stumble out of their huddle in the corner and to their feet, and their rescuer goes off a few feet to contact… whoever he’s with.

Thomas doesn’t pay much attention to whatever the man is saying, more on the sound of his voice – as well as he could focus on much of anything right then. Beyond even that, he’s doing his best not to look in even the general direction of Vickers’ body on the floor. Vickers was an ass, but he was a good guy where it counted. He didn’t deserve to die.

_He was only… what, sixteen? Seventeen? Fuck…_

Thomas comes back to himself when the man turns to face them again. 

“How did you find us?” he manages to say, curiosity nagging at him. Why would they send someone after a group of freshmen? How did they even know where they were?

“The distress beacon.” _Wait, what?_ That couldn’t be right – those were his words, yeah, but… hadn’t he said something to him already? When he killed that… thing?

 _It only counts when your soulmate speaks to you directly_. Thomas couldn’t remember where he’d heard that, but it made sense. So… what, then? This guy was his soulmate?

Whatever the case was, he couldn’t think on it now. Priority 1 was to survive and get the hell out of this place. They were the only people left – on the _entire planet_ , wasn’t that something – they _had to_ make it.

* * *

Sully took a shot in the leg before they managed to get off campus, and whatever irrational annoyance Thomas had felt when Sully had insinuated that their rescuer –  _Call me Master Chief,_ he’d said – wouldn’t come back for them when he’d gone ahead to scout the area, was lost in the urgency to get them all off the campus and to the Evac point Chief was directing them to.

A small part of Thomas’ mind, dedicated to focusing on irrelevant details, was stuck on the fact that Chief had stopped a bullet – or whatever the pink crystal rounds were – within inches of Sully’s head, the crystal shattering harmlessly on his forearm. Not to mention taking out the sniper aliens long-distance with a _pistol_.

Everything seemed like it was going fine after that. Well, as fine as the circumstances could be.

Until a plasma grenade went off under the Warthog, and he went and ran over one of the smaller aliens. Now the windshield was spattered with blood and shattered ammunition, and the Warthog wasn’t starting at all.

Time slowed to a crawl when another realization hit – Chyler was down. _Chyler had taken a shot to the stomach_. Even as his brain was running on a loop of _no, no, no, she’ll be fine_ , Thomas didn’t need to have a medical degree to know that it would be fatal if she didn’t get help _now_.

But there was no way they could get to the Pelican in time. The Warthog was a lost cause, they were being hunted, and the only directions they had were _head north_ because Chief was staying behind to buy them time to get away from whatever it was that was hunting them.

When Chyler forced her dog tags into his hand, took her last breath beneath one of the shelters in the training grounds, Thomas felt like he’d taken a round to the chest. Chief came up behind him, evidently taken care of whatever was chasing them. All he could offer was, “I’m sorry.”

The world took on a sort of haze between bouts of adrenaline, but Thomas could remember handing chief the grenade on his belt – the only live ammunition they had left. There was a roar in the distance, another one of the hunters, and they were running again. It’s a blur of trees and a green explosion not two yards away – this creature’s ammo is different from the others.

They take shelter beneath a steep drop, hopefully where the creature won’t see them, and Chief is talking to whoever Kelly is again.

 _“Negative_. Need more time. Cannot make it to the rendezvous.” A pause, for whatever Kelly says. “You have to hold the pelican. I _won’t_ leave them. Chief out.” He said, more emotion in his voice than Thomas had heard in the last… however long they’d been out here.

And then it looks again like Chief is staying behind, giving the cadets the time they need to get to the Evac. “I’ll engage. Get to the pelican as fast as you can.” He orders them. He stands taller with the grenade in his hand, ready to engage when the creature shows its face.

“No, sir!” Thomas stops him with a hand on his arm. “I’ll be the decoy. You sweep ‘em from behind.” He insists. He briefly registers April’s protests behind him, but Chief seems to agree with him – or maybe doesn’t think to stop him before he’s off running directly through the creature’s field of view.

The first shot goes wide, but not wide enough for him to be out of the blast radius. The impact with the ground isn’t the worst thing he’s gone through since he came to Corbulo. He won’t live long enough to see the second if he doesn’t get off his ass, he knows, and he’s off running again. He’s not sure when he made it out of the creature’s range, just that an earth-shaking slam behind him means that it’s taken the bait.

He doesn’t look back, tempted as he is when the green glow of the creature’s cannon charging cuts out briefly, followed by a painful-sounding metallic _clang_.

The second shot misses by a hair, and that’s the only part Thomas consciously remembers. That the green light missed. His ears are ringing, and he can feel dirt scratching at his face and drawing an irritated tear to his eye. Then April is shaking him, shouting in his ear until he coughs out the chalky dirt in his throat and forces his eyes open.

The relief on her face is clear as the sun rising somewhere behind him, and he wonders dazedly how Hastati ever referred to April as _the robot_.

They finally break through the trees, and Thomas could sob with relief at the sight of the pelican ready to get them away from here. There’s two more soldiers armored the way Chief is, nearly equal to his imposing height and build. The adrenaline thrumming through his system calms, if only a little, when the pelican is in the air. The two soldiers that look like Chief – one of them, the other man, is in the armour that Thomas recognizes from Sully’s decrypted ONI video, the number 104 emblazoned on the left shoulder – remove their helmets. The other is a woman. Both of their faces seem unnaturally pale, and… ageless.

“How old are you?” Sully’s the one to ask. The woman, 087, is the one to answer, after sharing a look with 104; not that it’s much of one.

“That’s classified.” She responds blandly.

The rear hatch closes when the pelican begins to gain altitude, and that’s when Chief hands Thomas what looks like a charred, jagged rock. After a moment, he recognizes the unnatural sheen that was the hunter’s armor. _A souvenir from my first battle?_

“Well done, soldier.”

Despite their simplicity the words create a warm feeling in Thomas’ chest as the last of the adrenaline drains away, and he allows himself to close his eyes.

* * *

 

Master Chief is gone when he wakes up to April shaking his shoulders again to drag him off to medical. So are the other two soldiers. It’s bizarre, because he knows he isn’t there but it feels like he is – Thomas knows as much about soulmates as anyone else, sans the people who are trying to figure out the _why_ s and _how_ s of them – he knows that once you meet your soulmate, it’s like a connection in the back of your mind forever.

Some people said that was part of the inspiration for the neural laces common in the UNSC. Regardless, the feeling would take some getting used to, a presence in the back of his mind. It was a tenuous bond at best – soulmates took years to get to the point where they could pick up something stronger than emotions, and that was when they were in constant contact or very nearly.

Something told Thomas that it would be a long time before he saw Chief again, that it would be better to take what he could get.

When news of the Spartans reached the galaxy, when the super-soldiers were placed on a sort of pedestal – with phrases like _Spartans never die_ kicking around to keep up morale – with Master Chief among them, Thomas knew he’d been right to take what he could get. With all the secrecy, he couldn’t imagine it going well if he were to try and actually tell anyone that the famed hero was his _soulmate_.

_Maybe one day. Maybe when the war is over. Assuming we both survive, at any rate._


	2. Timing Imperfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little bit more backstory on Soulmarks, and a lot more of the chief's perspective. I'm not writing this one at 3 AM this time, hopefully it makes a little more sense.

_“How did you find us?”_

John was born with his soulmark, scrawling messy letters on the back of his hand just below his knuckles. When he was old enough to understand the concept, he started imagining the different ways he would meet his person. The question, without context, could have a lot of meanings or scenarios attached to it. Was it friendly, or unfriendly? What was his soulmate even like?

When they were ‘recruited’, he and the other Spartans were not allowed to show their words. There were a variety of different coverings, depending on where their soulmark was, but if this was truly to be their lives… well, a bit of overlap was inevitable. Most of the Spartans found their soulmates within a week or two, and most people knew even if it was kept on the down-low.

They did their best to keep it from interfering with training, but something the instructors didn’t account for was how it could _help_. The mental tethers connecting soulmates made communication easier between squad members and other squads, making for more efficient groups on a whole.

John tried his best not to envy his brothers and sisters who'd found their soulmates. It was difficult. He’d stopped imagining what his soulmate would be like when they were first conscripted, but now with so many Pairs around him, it was hard to ignore.

After augmentations, there were a _lot_ of Spartans without their other half. The coverings weren’t necessary for many of them after the fact – soulmarks faded when their partner died, leaving an inky-looking smudge where words used to be. The only evidence of their pair’s existence.

Maybe it was selfish of him, but John was glad his soulmate wasn’t among the Spartans after that.

* * *

 

_“Mayday! Mayday, mayday! This is Cadet Thomas Lasky. I repeat, mayday! Mayday! There’s been an attack on Corbulo Academy! Excessive casualties. I repeat, excessive casualties.”_

It wasn’t the first distress call from Corbulo that they’d caught, but it was the first since comms went down after the Covenant destroyed the Orbital Elevator. The campus had been devoid of life at first glance, though some bodies were fresh.

As he searched the dorms, John found his hopes of finding any survivors dwindling. Until he heard shouts from further down the hall. The armory.

“Guys, run!”

“Vickers!”

There was an Elite towering over the cadets huddled in a corner when he reached the armory, speaking its strange language as it readied its energy sword for the kill. Well, not if John had anything to say about it. It was easy to stab the creature while its back was to him, he just had to hope it wasn’t calling for reinforcements before he got there. That would make the next part – getting the cadets off-world – a lot harder.

“…We don’t have much time. Let’s go.” He said as the remaining cadets scrambled to their feet, resting back against the lockers as they caught their breath and calmed down, while he contacted Kelly about the survivors.

When he turned to face them, one of the boys spoke up first. The one from the transmission, Thomas Lasky.

“How did you find us?”

John’s hand twitched, thoughts screeching to a halt for the barest of moments because those were _his words_ before he reminded himself that this was _not the time_ to be thinking about soulmates. But _god_ did he want to. 

“The distress beacon.”

Any thoughts that he’d been wrong, that the words were just a coincidence, were lost at the shock behind the boy's eyes. Lasky rubbed at his wrist without seeming to realize it, and when John looked he saw his own words, what he’d _just said_ , glaring darkly on top of the veins in his wrist. There was a subconscious satisfaction to that, on top of whatever feelings he had over finding his soulmate.

 _Don’t let it be a distraction_ , he reminded himself again. He had to get these cadets out and safe, that was the mission.

* * *

 

Fledgling soul bonds weren’t supposed to feel like much of anything, truth be told. Especially not a bond that had existed for less than twenty minutes. But he’d felt a swell of irritation when he’d gone ahead to scout the campus before they could leave, but not directed at him. Later he could feel the tension on top of his own as they drove into the night in the Warthog. Now after John had dealt with the hunter, he could feel anguish and grief bleeding through from the other side. The girl who’d been hit, Chyler, was gone. He had a feeling even before he caught up to the cadets, saw her body laid to rest.

“…I’m sorry.” It felt inadequate, but he didn’t know what else he _could_ say. There wasn’t time _to_ say it, the second hunter was on their trail and they needed to _go_. Their only option was to run – they were all out of ammo, sans the last live grenade Lasky had on his belt, and stun rounds would do nothing against a Hunter.

They were pinned down and out of time, and then Kelly was reminding him that the planet was about to be glassed and he needed to _leave ASAP._ But even if his entire being didn’t violently reject the idea of leaving his soulmate behind, he wasn’t going to leave these cadets to their death. They’d come this far, they couldn’t fail now.

Lasky surprised him, honestly, pulling a move he wouldn’t have expected from a cadet: He offered himself up as decoy, so John could get behind the hunter with the grenade. His determination rang clear through the weak connection, it would be pointless to argue unless John came up with a better plan himself, which he didn’t have time to do. It was the best option they had.

Before his fellow cadets could get it in their heads to stop him, Lasky was running into the night and into the Hunter’s field of view with a battle cry. All John could do was wait for his opportunity to strike. The hunter’s first shot barely missed, but it was enough to annoy the creature when Lasky scrambled to his feet and ran out of range, enough to get it to come down to their level.

The flick of a switch activated the grenade as the creature leaped down from the dropoff, and John charged before it could fire off another blast. He’d underestimated the hunter’s peripheral vision, though, and was batted back like an errant insect. The blaster warbled as it readied to fire at Lasky again – this time it wouldn’t miss if John didn’t do something.

Forcing himself to his feet, John ran at the creature again. Leaping onto its arm, he managed to jerk the hunter just enough to divert its fire, though he peripherally noted that he’d been sent flying again. Grabbing at the spines on its back, John jammed the grenade between the worm-like organisms that comprised the hunter’s body and backflipped away, landing in a crouch as the creature grunted, confused.

The confusion didn’t last long, the grenade ripping it apart from the inside with a spray of gore and orange blood.

He didn’t know what possessed him to grab a piece of the hunter’s armour after the fact. It had seemed like a good idea, as Orenski and Sullivan ran ahead to find Lasky. John wasn’t far behind, but he knew Lasky was okay. Or, better put, he would know if Lasky _wasn’t_ okay. Despite his own reassurance, it was a relief when the older boy began to cough, wheezing out dirt as Orenski stood him up and John called Kelly to bring in the pelican.

He informed her of the situation as they boarded the pelican, but there was no time to tell her, well, much of anything else. They really _had_ to go before the Covies started glassing the planet. He’d tell her later. She’d be happy for him, he knew. She and Fred were each other’s, it wasn’t quite the same, but nevertheless. Kelly remembered her parents’ stories about soulmates – despite the war, it was one of the few memories she held on to – and it was always something that fascinated her.

He could feel Lasky’s curiosity when Kelly and Fred removed their helmets, and he did not. It was Sullivan to voice the question, ask their age, but Lasky was burning to know as well.

 _Fifteen_. He wished he could say it, give his Pair even a scrap of information to feed their weak connection, but as most things were with the Spartans…

“That’s classified.”

Once the pelican door closed, the ship heading out of the atmosphere, John gave Lasky the hunter armour he’d picked up before. It was the closest he could get to a gift – a thank-you for helping him take down the hunter, at the very least. If it felt like the closest he could give to an acknowledgement of the bond that tethered them, as well, well… that was on him.

For now, all he could say was “Well done, soldier,” and hope that one day there would be an opportunity for them to know each other, that they survived that long at all. He felt a swell of exhaustion and gratitude as Lasky ran gloved hands over the jagged edges of the armour shard. It wasn’t long before the older boy’s eyes drifted shut, head slumped back awkwardly against the wall behind him.

John was glad for the helmet, it allowed him to view his Pair openly but also discreetly – it was probably the last time he’d see him for quite awhile. Objectively, he was attractive beneath the blood and dirt. John didn't feel desire the same as he may have before the augmentations, but it didn't mean he didn't have  _eyes_. Maybe he would feel differently next time they met, maybe Lasky wouldn't want anything to do with him.  That was all assuming either of the survived to meet again, though. The future held a lot of  _maybe'_ s. The only way to find out would be to live to see it.

But it was a long war, and it was just barely beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter than the last one, but this one seems more... not necessarily romantic but it has that feeling of SOULMATE to it a lot more than Lasky's POV did. 
> 
> In my own defense, let's assume that Lasky wasn't in his right mind and didn't really notice some things because he was in shock.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't really know how to end it, but there's going to be a HUUUUGE time skip between this installment and the next - to sometime in the fifties, or whenever Halo 4 takes place. That one's going to take a little longer, because I have to pay attention to a lot more canonical details, but meh. I hope you liked this! (Also, next installment is when the story OFFICIALLY becomes shipper trash. Because this was just their meeting, none of the cute fluffy shit yet.)


End file.
